


I guess one more night wouldn't hurt

by MacKyleMore



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: 'sorry for not stopping in writing more-' no youre not stfu, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artists fuck better because we turn sex into art, Happy anniversary RoTP, M/M, Mattresses become canvases where we can paint our love to someone with bodies, Pillow Talk, That meme where its like a big book and a small book next 2 it, and the small one is canon shit, but the big book is me writing RoTP shit, cw: May Contain Heavily Implied Route of The Problem FordeKyle, masterpieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacKyleMore/pseuds/MacKyleMore
Summary: In the setting of a certain painter's apartment bedroom; One particular January night...
Relationships: Forde/Kyle (Fire Emblem)





	I guess one more night wouldn't hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Within this past year, I have many a times beat myself up over the fact that I know the second night spent together in RoTP would be littered with stupid-ass pillow talk...
> 
> And back then, I didn't even TRY and delve into it??? How boreeennnnggg
> 
> So? A year later? I'm gonna do just that. But I'm also gonna this time push how Forde specifically feels. Because I really do have a harder time in trying to characterize Forde, but I still WANT to better explain and get more out of how he felt/feels. THAT BEING SAID this is a thing to give more background on Forde :)
> 
> Happy Anniversary Route of The Problem... commence the place between chapter 3 and 4...
> 
> chapter 3.5, if u will

* * *

Kyle lays back on Forde's headrest, draping the backside of his wrist over his eyes as he evens out his breathing.

It's odd, but the rhythmic sound of his sighs are in-a-way lulling. Almost like the white noise of a fan in the summer-- Except it hasn't been warm enough to use one of those for _months._ And Forde had to instead more _recently_ grow blandly accustomed to nothing more than downtown traffic; Car horns periodically wailing in the middle of the night.

_"Sooo..."_ Forde yawns as he stretches his arms above his head; Pulling a nearby bathrobe overtop his otherwise bare body. "I've been wondering... Just _hooow_ big's that dick of yours?"

At the sound of this question, Kyle chokes on an intake of air. Arm still keeping his eyes hidden from Forde's view: _Kyle'_ _s cheeks flush red._

Their pallor had only _recently_ returned to a typical flesh tone; Since just mere minutes ago, they were shaded in a blood-rushed heat of sexual warmth. 

But just like that, by a silly question that Forde hardly even meant as anything more than a joke:

_Kyle's face is again **red-hot.**_

"Uh-I... Uh... Wh- _What!?"_ Kyle asks, as his arm flips itself over on his face; So that now he's trying to hide that blushing of his in his palm.

**"Your dick."** Forde states as bluntly as he can manage, in order to hide how the need to smirk is suddenly coming on.

...Because, _It wasn't a serious question._ It was just to fill a sort of silence.

But Kyle's hesitant and flustered reaction has changed Forde's mind. 

Now, _**Forde wants to know**._

"I-I... _Uh--_ I... I don't know!?" Kyle squeals defensively. " _What the hell!?"_

"Oh, Come **_on."_** Forde laughs, airily. "You can't be a grown man like yourself and not know how many _inches_ you are!"

Kyle frowns sternly in response beneath the shelter of his hand. However, he makes no further vocal effort to decline if or not he truly knows the answer to Forde's question. 

_Kyle remains silent._

In any case-- Heavily assuming he's at least a _little_ self-informed, or has at most a general _idea_ of his size-- ...It seems he understandably just _**does not** want to **tell Forde.**_

"...Fine." Forde decides, before heaving himself up off from his mattress and over to his painting supplies.

If Kyle doesn't want tell him: _Then Forde can at least make a move to figure it out on his own._

Stepping up to his desk, Forde reaches to slide open one of its drawers.

Deviously, Forde pulls out a simple ruler he uses predominantly as a straight-edge in his sketches. _Measuring_ isn't even its primary function; Not for how _Forde_ normally uses it...

But while Kyle is still here for the night, Forde thinks he ought to be able to _juuust_ this once seize the chance to use its tick marks for their _manufactured_ intention.

With it: Forde perhaps can circumstantially provoke Kyle... _Which seems promising for a bit of fun._

Forde makes his way back over, digging one of his knees into the sheets on his bed. The urgent stretching of the fabric thereafter is enough to promote Kyle's confusion; As he finally removes the arm that has been blocking his vision. _Kyle tilts his head to look Forde's way._

"...Hmm?" Kyle begins with a mutter. His moderate panting from before has notably restored itself back to normal. But, as Kyle's attention focuses, shortly he is inhaling sharply in shock: Proving what was beginning to be an _easing_ respiration once again pointless, _and now a thing of the past._

"Wh-What the _hell!?"_ Kyle's eyes widen at the sight of the ruler in Forde's grip. "Wh-Wh-Why do you have that so _easily_ within _reach--!!"_

**"--So I can measure the sizes of the guys I sleep with."** Forde can't help but tease Kyle here as he leans in even closer into his bed. 

Next, Forde waves the ruler in his hand. With it resonates the _'whooshy'_ sort of sound you'd hear while wobbling a freshly laminated document.

Forde waits a minute; Still having to hold back a laugh. _"Duh."_ Forde informs Kyle, emphasis on the flick of his tongue as he pronounces the first letter.

Kyle draws back anxiously. Not even complete terror is the look that is on his face, but more-so _perplexity._

...He seems to think Forde is absolutely one hundered percent _serious,_ here. _**Wow.**_

How _convenient_ that Forde doesn't have a separate room for his studio: Because that means all of his art materials are right here in the moment. _Including his ruler._

And it leaves for a perfect situational joke that Kyle just can _not_ understand as long as he doesn't know why Forde would so easily have a _ruler_ readily available in his _bedroom._

"Get that thing away from me!" Kyle makes a move to inch himself onto the very ledge of Forde's bed: _Distancing as far as he possibly can f_ _rom Forde._ Kyle's forearm sheilds himself in defense. 

And how uselessly _vulnerable_ Kyle looks.

...

He's kinda...

**Kinda...**

_Kindaaa..._

_**Cute.**_

Or-- Or... _Or in the very least kinda fun to mess around with._

In... _**more** ways than one._

Cornering himself away, almost like a person trapped in an elevator would with no where left to escape... _Kyle looks helpless_.

Ruler still held tightly in his fist, Forde crawls closer over the top of his bed.

Kyle's eyes become locked with Forde's own: Unwavering.

...They're... _pretty._ Maybe Forde can try and _recreate_ their vibrant and deep hue; If he were to mix his paints in the correct way, that is.

Maybe Forde can even use their color somewhere in one of the filled commission slots he currently has accepted.

_Kyle's eyes..._ They're an intense shade. Shrouded in mystery and deeply-hidden personality. Maybe their obscure lure won't work for the nostalgic, reminiscent, and _softer_ assignment Forde has prioritized for _first_ in line, but...

The select client of Forde's that proposed he paint a particular, designated side street? Allocated as the place in where she _for the first time_ spoke with the person who she is _currently_ engaged to...?

_'It's for my wedding day_.' She had told Forde, in their first meeting. Apparently interested enough in Forde's distinct style; Enough to where she _entrusts_ him to be able to portray enough _emotion_ into what any _normal_ person would perceive as a **crappy** **set of campus streets and buildings--**

_And Forde truly **was** reluctant to accept this offer at first._ Thinking no _way_ he could express enough heart into some _**un**_ remarkable place like _that._ All the while _she,_ however: Associates this same landscape with romantic, lifelong **_love._**

This branch of emotion surrounding it isn't any strong feeling Forde specifically _has._ For the location, **mainly...** But also just in _general._

But if Forde's coming clean: _He really_ _could use the money_. And he knows that tackling things out of his comfort zone still _is_ the best improvement-builder; A worthwhile and efficient way to progress in your skill.

So, Forde ultimately had ended up accepting: Even _with_ his limited confidence that he'll be able to do a good enough job; Not as long as it's something being done with _his own_ personal _'ability...'_

Yet somehow _now,_ as he keeps his stare firm into the hypnotizing gravity of Kyle's eyes? As it so happens, _Forde thinks he's found a little bit of motivation._ Forde is all of a sudden _glad_ he's taken the request for his client named Mia.

Forde considers. The color in Kyle's eyes are _perfect._ Because although Forde was hired to paint a memorable piece for Mia's _wedding?_ The truth is that the place in question that Forde needs to _paint_ is supposedly where she _met_ her fiancee. 

And, When you first meet someone who you at the time are _unknowingly_ going to eventually end up _marrying?_

It's probably near- _impossible_ not to recall this significant of a memory without a curious energy.

Yes, _Kyle's uncertainty and apprehensive nature here will work **perfectly.**_

Ahhh... Forde subtly looks over Kyle further. It's been _quuuiiite **awhile**_ since he's had decent inspiration; Apart from the _usual_ of his clients' individual outward personalities, that is.

Of course, it's necessary for Forde to reflect the _buyer_ into his work, but...

Without something _else_ to go off of? Then Forde's work won't **have** any _unique style,_ or _characterization_ that makes it stand out from the rest.

Good thing **Kyle--** Albeit without his _knowledge-- Can **be**_ that expressive contribution to some parts of Forde's work.

Forde's kind of been slacking lately, _anyway..._ Kind of been hanging around a certain frantic, _**good** -looking_ guy instead of _working for his deadlines..._

...In the very least, Forde can declare having had _slept_ with Kyle for two consecutive nights as an _**excuse** for **inspiration.**_

"..." During the time Forde has spent ongoing in distractedly processessing how he can _later_ utilize the memory of Kyle's company in his work... The fabled ' _Kyle'_ himself has easily been _without a word._

Left all alone in a contemplative silence by Forde's unspoken and mental train of thought: Kyle proceeds to do nothing more than swallow nervously.

But, something **else** about him, **and about his body language,** continues to _speak multitudes._

Oh, The way Kyle _looks_ is **absolutely** assisting in Forde's aesthetic vision.

"...I'm only kidding." 

Eventually, a little fazed himself, Forde gives up on his earlier ruler-induced provocation.

He hadn't meant to _scare_ Kyle. It was _seriously_ just a **joke.**

...But seemingly a joke that Kyle took _much too **seriously.**_

Kyle frowns. His eyebrows raise in confusion, all before he finally exhales in relief: Beginning to understand Forde's messing-around _wa_ _sn't an honest pursuit_.

"...You're fuckin' weird, man." Kyle decides as he finally lets his gaurd down, and eventually repositions himself closer again to the center of Forde's bed. "Shallow enough that you always have a ruler on hand to _measure_ people?"

Forde can't help but smile as he shakes his head. Having given up; Forde reaches back to drop the tool as-of-today _**best** **used for jokes**_ down onto the top of his night stand. 

The metal it's composed of echoes an abrupt ' _clang'_ as it lands on the surface.

"I'm hardly shallow at all, _I'll have you know_." Forde explains with confidence. "It's not about the length... More so what is _done_ with it. And I didn't make a move to measure you _yesterday,_ did I? _So you're fine._ I just wanted to see how you'd react."

Kyle sits still for a moment; Not even trying to _hide_ how his eyes start roaming over Forde, as Forde starts getting himself ready for the night-- Looking to get comfortable.

Kyle seems to not know how to form a reply...

_Maybe something Forde said has him over-thinking..._

"Perhaps it's **_you_** who's the shallow one?" Forde stammers nervously in question; All before _**quickly** **taking it back** :_ "Nah. _Kidding._ If _you_ were _shallow...?_ You wouldn't be wasting your life on the likes of me."

_"...Huh?"_ Kyle's sudden noise of confusion is high pitched as he cocks his head to the side. "I-I... I wouldn't call myself entirely... ' _shallow',_ exactly... But I definitely have more of a clear-cut personality type that I'm drawn to..." Kyle trails off as he staggers to look elsewhere.

Forde bats his eyelids in thought for a minute before he accidentally ends up _**staring** at Kyle;_ In order to try and understand whatever _that_ response was...

Kyle sits motionless.

_**"Well."**_ Forde declares aloud, trying to interrupt the growing and densely-thick silence. "You seem like you're beatin' around the bush. As if you're trying to justify _that_ as, in a sense: _**Still shallow.**_ But, to me? That sounds hardly anything like it! When someone is shallow, they don't _care_ about personality types or _how_ people act. They care about how people _look,_ or, **you know...** _how their **body** feels_. Shallow people only care about what they _alone_ are getting out of **any** sort of relationship. So, I think you're sellin' yourself short. Having a **_type_** doesn't make you _'shallow'!_ ...Actually, having one just means you are about as _far from_ it as they come!"

"..."

Kyle just inhales in speculation as he intakes Forde's good-humored attempt at consolation.

And so, Forde continues on. "I... _I mean_. I **know** you're not shallow. You've kept _**me**_ in high spirits with your company here for two nights in a row. And you've done a... really... _helpful,_ job; _I may add._ You **_can't_** be shallow--"

Forde is cut off short.

"Can, _too."_ Unconvinced, Kyle starts at nothing more than a mere groan; Until finally he speaks up. "You talk like you think you're not attractive. Which, I'll be honest. _I can beg to differ._ And, yes, maybe there's... _more_ to it than that. For _me,_ anyway... Maybe you _also_ seem like you _could_ fall into my explicit category of ' _What about a personality I find emotionally interesting_ '... But it doesn't mean you're not **also...** _attractive."_

Forde realizes his voice is in an instant caught in his throat, and that _he is choked up and struggling to form a response._

What Kyle just said...

_What's that supposed to **mean!?**_

So instead of contemplating it, instead of reading too much into claims that are barely even _present:_ Forde fumbles with words.

"P-P-Person... Person ** _ality!?_ "** Forde raises his voice to hide his embarrassment. He tries to sound like he's asking with pure mockery and wit. Even _if_ he truthfully **just wants to know.** _"I'm_ coming off as _**your** type,_ am I? Ah-- _Ha!_ I... I'm just w- _wondering_ , then. Can I... Can I ask you just what kind of t-t- _type_ that _is!?"_

Kyle looks up again: _Forde's way once more._ His brow is tightly furrowed in what looks like disturbed worry. "... _Someone who challenges how I think_... Someone who could maybe... _maybe_ easily bring out _my_ personality."

In a flash, Forde's face feels warm. He scrambles to quick act like his immediate reaction of a _flushed face,_ and the prompt stirring sensation that floods his chest means _nothing._

_Forde stretches to his side for a bottle of water that he had earlier placed on his dresser_. He needs to cool off after hearing such an ambiguous answer like _that._

He quivers in trying to snap open the lid. Take a quick drink. _Cool his head_ ; Before deeply taking in a good amount of _air_ afterward.

...

As Forde is at a momentary loss, he blankly glares at the slow-flowing ripple encased inside the bottle's clear container. 

Right away, this has him thinking _something else._

This morning, _Kyle had asked for a shower_. But since Forde was at the time too-much asleep to even _remember_ Kyle asking for this: _Forde knows he instead accidentally came off as unreasonably **snappy** and **irritable.** _

So there's a good chance that there is more Kyle may want; While he's still here, at least. Maybe an extra blanket. Maybe a small meal. Maybe a glass of wine or maybe an invitation to go wash his face.

And, as Forde looks over the bottle of water in his hand: Maybe Kyle wants a quick break to quench the likeliness of a dry throat. _Especially_ putting into consideration how thirsty someone may be after they've recently had a heart-racing orgasm.

Yes. _Kyle could want a lot of things_. For all Forde knows, Kyle could even be the type of person who likes to _cuddle_ after sex: _Regardless_ as to whether or not their current sexual partner is mostly considered a stranger.

...Probably.... _**not.**_ Forde thinks, trying to understand if there even _is_ anything at _all_ more that Kyle wants here; As he's still taking his... _reserved..._ time in resting underneath Forde's roof. Putting everything into perspective and account? Realistically: _Kyle is **probably not** the 'cuddling **type.'**_

But, _Forde **also** has no for-sure way of just _**_knowing_.**

And on the other hand, _Maybe Kyle **actually** just wants to leave and be on his way. _

And he could. And Forde could tell him that this would be okay. If Kyle were in a hurry and has had enough: Then by all means, _he has every right to take his leave._

But Forde doesn't necessarily _want_ him gone. Not only would it make little to no sense to force Kyle out in the middle of the dangerous hours of dark night; When he could simply wait until daylight to ensure a safe drive home...

But along _s_ _ide_ that reasonable fact _, Forde secretly **is** finding Kyle's company to be rather enjoyable._

Maybe, Forde... is just a _liiittle_ bit less of a stranger to Kyle than he was a single night ago. But Forde ultimately, still, _does not know_ hardly _anything_ about Kyle. 

And as if to add insult to injury: If there _were_ something Kyle may want, and something Forde would be more than happy to offer...? _There is no chance in **Hell** that Kyle would be comfortable in asking for it;_ Due to the sad fact that Forde accidentally came off as harsh this morning, and probably only scared Kyle away from being able to _know_ that asking for something...? Would _certainly_ be acceptable.

So, _**No.**_ Forde can't be here all night inquiring if Kyle would benefit from this or that. _Doing so would take all night long._

But, since he can at least practice a bit of politeness: Forde can offer to Kyle the things that Forde has openly been offering himself.

"...You want a sip?" Forde blinks as he turns to look Kyle's way. "I mean, _are you thirsty at all?"_

"Hmm? Uh, You mean--" Kyle sounds quizzical. "Ah! Uh. _No._ No, _thanks._ I'm sure that's taking things a bit too far--"

What!? Too _far?_

Forde just wanted to make sure Kyle is as comfortable as he can possibly be... You know. Since he's still some place he _probably doesn't feel very comfortable **in**_ **.** It's not like they haven't already given each other the mutual exchange of sexual satisfaction! It's not like they haven't both _finished_ together, for fuck's sake!

But Kyle keeping himself _hydrated_ would somehow be the thing taking it _'Too far'!?_

Yeah... Forde doesn't know much about Kyle.

_But Kyle must seriously be **something else.**_

  
_"--Dude!_ You were _inside_ me." Forde reminds loudly; Raising his hand outward. _Forde holds out his first two fingers_. "You were inside me **_twice._** And it hasn't even been a full 24 hours since we first met!"

Kyle makes a face. Slowly, he seems to be full-on situating himself into relaxation; Now that it seems Forde's doing the same.

Kyle's likely thankful. Likely thinking: ' _Good thing that earlier conversation about which types of people they both find attractive is **over.'**_

Kyle repositions himself so that he now displays a more _open_ body language in the way he lays. His forearm moves to rest leisurely overtop his stomach; Opposite elbow bent back behind him to act as a prop.

"...It's a little different." Kyle says, as he just barely exerts the motion to point out the bottle in Forde's hand. "That's got like, _your backwash._ And it's your _mouth._ Bodily fluids being indirectly transported to and from another person's mouth are _more gross than a dick in an ass."_

Kyle's face that he's phased into _now_ is actually quite a bit on the amused side.

Not the almost _depressive_ scowl he wore a night ago on a bar stool.

Not the shy and embarrassed blush he had flared up in earlier this afternoon at the laundromat, once Forde had hit him with a few _sexual_ jokes in a _non_ -sexual setting.

Not the almost angry and irritated expressions Forde had even seen when Kyle had so often-- _In just the short while they've accompanied each other_ \-- Jumped to the **incorrect** conclusions that he wasn't going to get the _things_ that he wanted out of Forde.

Not even anywhere _near_ the downright **_hot_** and seductive, _turn-on_ inducing mess of his sweat-matted bangs. No, How Kyle composes himself **now** is _no_ _thing_ like the carnal look he had in his eyes a few moments ago in the midst of fervent, penetrative sex.

**Amused.** Slight smirk at the corner of Kyle's mouth. Now, openly joking on his own behalf. An eyebrow raised in crude thought.

Forde blinks and marginally shakes his head from side to side. Dazed at the sight of this more _immature_ introspective of Kyle's; Forde snickers under his breath. "...Need I remind you that we made out? Like, _quite_ _a_ _bit?"_

At this, Kyle compulsively runs his tongue over his top lip, _surely_ **thinking back to this and recalling it.**

_Even if the last time it happened was no more than ten minutes ago._

Kyle clears his throat eventually, as he sits himself up a little more on the pillow.

_"That's also different_." Kyle claims, but it incidentally seems like he's falling back on his personal beliefs as to _what **is**_ disgusting and _what **isn't.**_

"...You think so?" Forde ponders aloud as he sets his water back onto his bedside table. 

Does Kyle... _really_ have no problems with sucking on someone else's face, but simultaneously he doesn't feel safe in _drinking_ after them?

Forde leans over his bed, realizing _he wants to test that theory out for himself and see if it's true or not._

Slowly, to make sure he's giving Kyle the opportunity to decline what he's about to _do_ if it were something Kyle wouldn't want; Forde closes in until his lips are hovering over Kyle's.

Allowing a few seconds of pause, _Kyle makes no effort to back away_. All he does is inhale softly in surprise as his gaze shifts from Forde's eyes to his mouth.

Kyle's profound, _so-close_ breath on Forde's chilled skin is tempting...

_And so Forde kisses him_. **No trouble.** No Kyle pushing him away. _No sign of not being on board._

It seems Kyle _was_ telling the truth. He _does_ have no gripes about sticking his tongue down virtually-random strangers' _throats._

Even with his eyes soon being closed, Forde is still able to recognize the essence of Kyle gesturing to lift the hand that he had previously rested over his chest.

Kyle now wavers in holding it in the air alongside Forde's face; Almost as if he wants to caress Forde's cheek and _pull him in closer._

Ultimately, Forde sheepishly breaks away before Kyle has the time to figure out what it is he wanted to do with that palm of his.

...Maybe Forde's emotions and senses are a bit on the heightened side as of late; But he almost _swears_ that when they seperate, Kyle inches in to try and kiss Forde _juuust a little while longer._

"...You don't have any issues with my mouth on yours?" Forde moans heavily. He notices he's been holding himself up with one of his hands placed in between each of Kyle's legs; Both thighs hidden beneath the cotton of Forde's comforter.

Forde can't exactly... _remember_ positioning it there. _It just sort of happened_. And Kyle... almost willingly grinds his hips _into_ where Forde uses this arm of his as support.

"...I can't say that I do."

Forde chooses to linger in the wake; Fixedly entranced by Kyle's eyes.

They really _are_ breathtakingly indescribable... Soft and menacing all the same: Somehow not even clouded in _lust,_ exactly. _**Something else**_ weighs deep within them.

Something _distracting_ that tells Forde that Kyle _is_ getting _more_ out of spending the night. **More** than just the otherwise _obvious_ fulfillment of sexual needs.

_What precisely is it?_ Is it that Kyle gets pleasure out of making _others_ feel good? Or... Is it... that... Kyle on his _own,_ is... _e_ _motionally_ lonely?

Intimidated and nervous, _Forde doesn't want to think about it too much_. It's not all that big of a deal as to the _reason **why**_ Kyle chose to spend a second night here.

_"...Then just drink the damn thing!_ " Overcome with anxiety; Forde shouts forcefully in order to push his thoughts away, and keep himself from becoming too invested in Kyle's motives.

Kyle flinches back at Forde's abrupt tone. Eventually, Kyle blinks before he frowns: Only to in the end reach out for the side-table to signal for Forde to hand him the water.

Forde does. And after it is handed to him: Kyle takes a swig so small from it that you could hardly even call it _just_ _a_ _sip._

"Ah--" Kyle huffs after the drop is swallowed. "You happy? _I drank your damn water!"_

"..."

"..."

"Bwahaha!" Forde can't help himself. He ends up cracking up in genuine laughter. **_Wow._** It feels like it's been a damn long time since he's been able to release _so many_ sincere reactions and feelings. It must have been forever since Forde has let loose so _much_ of his internal vitality in front of another person.

_**Wow.**_ Forde again thinks. **And he thinks it fondly.**

_Kyle just sulks_.

Eventually, Forde collects himself from his laughter and from pondering over his authentic expressions of back-to-back emotion.

And then he _collects his water bottle from Kyle's hand in order to put it back._

"You can hardly call _that_ a drink." Forde explains.

**"...Good."** Expresses Kyle. "I've taken up enough of your space as it is. _I don't need much more than that_. So let's keep it small and just act as if you shared _none_ of it with me."

...Ah.

_...Right._ Forde shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be leading--... Not even leading _Kyle_ on-- _**But himself.**_ Since all that Kyle seemingly, purposefully _wants_ to **have** here is a convenient place for some casual sex... And Forde probably wouldn't be sufficient for that need _alone_ in the longer run.

While still very prominent: Forde's recent sheer _elation_ quickly turns plainly somber.

Forde knows he hasn't quite developed _much_ more here than initial physical attraction; As he indulges in fantasizing about what _could_ be, and about what Kyle _may be like as a person_ , but...

Any _more_ seeing each other, _and Forde knows he will **really** want to **get to know** Kyle._

...In truth, Forde wants that _now._ **For himself.**

But to Forde, forcing anything unwanted out of Kyle sounds unfair and disrespectful.

There are _certainly_ more-fitted people out there that could occupy a place in Kyle's life. With how _interesting_ and _attractive_ he is proving to be. As opposed to some near-useless, _struggling_ guy who couldn't keep himself from hitting on Kyle in the middle of the night at a _bar._

Forde reflects on yesterday evening. Because **holy shit;** Could he really _not_ keep himself from hitting on Kyle. It wasn't even like, _something he expected would go anywhere._ Kyle just looked so enticing. _**Sex** wasn't even what Forde was looking for, _if he's coming perfectly clean. That's the real truth that Kyle's _never going to get to know_. 

Forde doesn't **ever** hit on people with the intent for it to _only_ be a one-time thing.

It should also be established that Forde can't even _remember_ the last time he had so much as a handjob. _Not b_ _efore **Kyle,**_ anyway. The last time was probably in the first half of when he went to Trade School.

But in the scenerio of Kyle? _Forde was just stepping out for a late night walk._

Call him one of those annoying, _enlightened_ artists or whatever. _He won't care._ Because, well... Being an artist...? It's his job. _That's his form of paycheck._

But for what it's worth, sometimes the best method for study and grasping an understanding of the world is _**easily** people watching._

Sometimes, being an artist, you _need_ to go out late at night in order to see all different types of people.

Sometimes...

...Going out late at night calls for a very **numbered** amount of selections in setting that would still have their doors open and their lights on.

Sometimes, there are _people_ in these settings who don't necessarily look like they belong there. But they can be found in them _any_ way.

And Forde isn't exactly afraid of confrontation. Not as long as small talk and conversations with strangers are sometimes the _perfect_ thing to give him that _final idea_ that he's been searching for: In reference to his painting. 

So... Forde _had_ no intention of actually taking Kyle to bed. Forde didn't even see Kyle as the type to want to be _ta_ _ken **to**_ bed.

So after Forde was just trying to get a creative spark going; Started over what was _supposed_ to be a short _one-and-only_ talk with a _picturesque Kyle,_ who at just **first glance:** Forde _certainly_ knew could be doing better for himself than dampening up his pretty face all alone in dim neon...

How could misinterpreted line after misinterpreted line between the two of them pile up into what has played out here and now _...?_

How'd it all turn into _this?_

Through the miscommunication, Forde is in a weird spot of convinced Kyle _only_ wanted sex, but also somehow slightly convinced Kyle _never **wanted**_ sex to **_begin_** with.

But as that so happens _, Kyle's still here_. And all they've really done these past few nights in Forde's apartment was **just that** _ **:** Sex._

Kyle shouldn't even be here again tonight. _For his own good._

Oh, well. Kyle carried out his duty. Kyle completed his unspoken end of this deal- _\- Even **if** in blind innocence._ Kyle relinquished an influx of movement to Forde's mind; All with a rich and immersive inspiration that Forde **knows** he's been lacking for what feels like ages.

It admittedly took a few more than just one meeting, for Forde to again remember what it means to be _flowing_ with creative insight. But it's been worth it. Because maybe **enough** inspiration isn't something that can always be acquired in _one-off_ conversations.

"...Sheesh. _Go to bed_." Forde groans to himself in acceptance, as he gathers his composure away from his drowning thoughts.

"I'm ready to pass out. **_So shut up_.**" Forde demands out of Kyle. _Just because he can._ Maybe to remind himself that he still has _some_ control here... Even if Kyle hasn't actually _said_ anything for the last few minutes; He sure makes _Forde_ unable to _**shut up.** In _his head, that is. Forde's mind is _racing._ (And, maybe... _so is his heart_.) "You tire me out."

"Huh!? Wh- _What!?_ I- I wasn't even--" Kyle questions in alarm as he jolts on the opposite side. **_"Excuse_** me!? _You're_ the one who's been tiring _me_ out!"

No longer is Forde laughing so openly like he was earlier... But he knows he still wears at least _some_ variant of a faint, _bittersweet_ smile. 

That's right... _Enjoy the presence of Kyle's lovely soul while it lasts,_ Forde.

"...How about..." Forde leans over one last time; In order to ensure he gets his assertive point across. Forde savors his decision of a final advancement as he kisses Kyle. Because although with great regret, Forde's solemnly positive he will never get the luxury to do so again. _He needs to take this last chance._

A simple, quick peck on the corner of Kyle's mouth is all that follows. _It almost works to inflict stun-damage._

"We can tire _each **other**_ out." Forde murmurs. " _Now._ Good night--... _I_ _mean--_ I... I uhhh-- _I hope you sleep well."_

Forde just barely manages to keep himself from slipping here, and _not_ mistakenly call Kyle by his name. Because, after all, _that **is** his name._ **He should be addressed as such.**

...Or, maybe he **_could_** be addressed as such, if only Forde was a person that Kyle was familiar enough with in knowing the details on what his name _is._ But... _Forde is not_. So Forde does not have the place to use it.

Remembering that makes Forde feel... _lonely..._ almost. Maybe even empty...

_Forde turns over to huddle himself underneath his blanket._

Forde wonders for a moment... How this depressing class of sexual time slots are occurrences that _some_ categories of people partake in on more than even a _weekly_ basis.

How can some people seek out others with the lackluster objective of sparsely meeting for only one night and _never care enough to see them again?_

Don't they have... _any..._ interest beyond what the person they sleep with may be like? Because _Forde_ happens to find just about _everyone_ under the sun at least _some_ what intriguing for who they are. 

It's as simple as no one is the same. _It's fascinating._

And that's why Forde _does what he does_. Even if he believes himself to be no _exceptional_ painter, and that he has no existing person available in his life who would continually appreciate the effort he puts into his line of work?

Forde _still mindfully thrives in doing i_ _t;_ Because of the fact that it helps him gain an otherwise difficult to approach understanding of the human heart.

From one canvas to the next: Painting provides the in-depth ability for Forde to better learn relative structure. As with **every** new client of his that each have their own individual story; A story which needs to be at least _partially_ retold in order for Forde to devise a visual for a place to start...

Engaging in this process to assemble all the appropriate information means that in Forde's experience; Painting illuminates each and every type of _real, honest,_ **_l_** ** _ove._** All in which will _always_ be found somewhere throughout the meaningful social aspects of mankind.

So how can people be satisfied after a few hours of being together with just _any_ one without anything _else_ to follow!?

**Another** reason why Forde doesn't usually allow himself to do this stuff. _It's all too thought provoking_. 

On the surface, seemingly unlucky for Forde: _Some_ aspect about Kyle, however... Just _completely_ **drew** Forde in. **_Something._**

Perhaps there was a force at play.

A force which psychologically proves to Forde that since he actively _wanted_ to sleep with Kyle again, This whole _'relationship'_ is a part of Forde's conscious desire.

And that maybe this time around...? Well, _this_ time-- The altered decision of Forde's to instead attempt to _traverse_ down this never-before-seen path...? Just may have been an **_OK_** one.

_And also **worth** it._

Because Kyle is not just one night. Hell, Kyle is not even just _two_ nights. Kyle is a **person.** He's got... _things_ going on. He's got thoughts and feelings and _emotions._ Kyle is _many_ nights. **_Countless,_** nights. Regardless as to whether or not they are nights that _Forde_ gets to see: Kyle _is still_ as many nights as each individual person will have in their given lifetime.

And the thoughts and nights that Kyle experiences...? **Probably are not all that unlike Forde's.**

Sure, _maybe Kyle feels differently about the whole **take** on hook-ups..._ But realistically, no _way_ as Kyle lays hardly even a foot away in Forde's bed-- _No **way**_ he's not having a debating-conversation of his own in his head on how he's feeling in this exact moment.

_Because Kyle's not so readily able to pass out tonight_. Yesterday was different. Yesterday was a bit more seemingly _emotional_ -driven, _at least for Kyle._ Drained, even.

But tonight? Both the two of them are wide awake. Sharing a silence that would cause **_any_** one to evaluate themselves. 

"I'll, uh--" Forde starts one last comment as he lays facing the opposite direction. "I'll leave my table lamp on. In case you gotta like, get up in the middle of the night, or... _whatever."_

**"Hmmmm?** _Why...?_ I already know where your bathroom is." Kyle states softly into the ageing night. " _Where else would I have to see to go?"_

...Forde had meant that the purpose in keeping it on would mean that if Kyle wanted to discreetly **leave--** Maybe not until _after_ Forde had fallen asleep--?

Then the light would allow him ease in getting himself dressed. And also so that he could make out his surroundings if he needed to show himself to the door.

...But it seems Kyle's understood differently. _**Kyle** seems to have **every intention** of staying the remainder of the night; _Staying until the natural rays of dawn seep in.

Now, as Forde's covers are secured over the bottom half of his face?

_Forde thanks the fact that it masks a smile he all of a sudden can't keep from surfacing._

"So I can turn it off?" Forde asks.

_"Whatever you want."_ Kyle confirms. 

All right. Good. _It's only for tonight_. Kyle isn't in a rush, after all. 

Gladly, _Kyle will still be here for just a little while longer._

Forde takes a second to reach out to turn the light's switch off.

"Good night..." Kyle mumbles as they become shrouded in complete darkness.

And then, Kyle has the audacity to add a subtle, low-spoken ending to this very precise warm wish: _"...Forde."_

Ah--

**That's right.**

_Kyle is allowed to use Forde's name_.

As Forde lays still and tries to get some rest...

The fact that this name exchange is a one-way street starts _obsessively relaying in Forde's mind._

That _person_ that's making his way **_down_** this metaphorical one-way won't seem to reach the end.

He keeps going in reverse... Constantly stepping back to square one so that he is unknowingly playing with Forde's feelings...

...Having the _nerve_ to **_use Forde's name._**

The repetition of this fact-- The fact that Kyle can say _'Forde'_ as he so pleases, But Forde can't regard Kyle as _'Kyle'?_ **This disadvantaging fact repeats itself.**

_Baaack_ and forth. 

_And for no **sensible** reason._

Since, well... Forde suddenly realizes he theoretically _could_ call Kyle _'Kyle'._ He could _absolutely_ do it. It's not like he's incapable of pronouncing it. Not that illiteracy is keeping him from writing it in graphite. Not like Forde can't comprehend the formation of characters, and it's not like he can't _put the name to the face._

If he really wanted to, Forde really **could** put good use out of the name _'Kyle.'_

Wait... He, _can?_

Can't he?

Nothing is exactly... _stopping_ him.

This thought ruminates as Forde coincidentally still tries so hard to get to sleep. Physically satisfied: Courtesy of _Kyle's efforts._ But mentally? ** _Forde is all over the place._** He doesn't know where to go; Where to place his thoughts. No-where can he pinpoint a _single thing_ and a single thing **alone** to focus on.

There are too many divergent roads that his thought-process can follow.

Everything. _Kyle._ Forde's own life. _Kyle._ Forde's painting that he needs to remember to do. Especially since he now has a clear image for it, since _Kyle_ has helped him so greatly in providing a set of new components.

Kyle.

_Kyle._

Forde knows Kyle's name.

_Forde knows Kyle's name._

Forde is tired. But he is not tired of seeing Kyle...

_Forde wants to get to see Kyle again._

Forde wants to know _more_ than **_just_** _Kyle's name._

...Forde's sheets are a mess again. **How's that?** Didn't he _just_ wash them this afternoon!?

Forde has lot of work to do. _A lot to clean up..._

A lot of work...

**Work.**

Painting. _His job._

Kyle has helped provide a new-found substance for Forde's painting...

Forde's painting... Which... _Co_ _me to think of it_... Isn't a draft for one of them _due_ in a couple of days?

...It is, _isn't it...?_

Forde finds himself yawning. He knows he's about to finally fall into a deep slumber. _He's reached that point when you get tired enough that you can't properly assess anything._

And... Kyle? _Is still here._

...Maybe, if Forde went out of his way, it wouldn't be the end of the world if in the very least he just _asked_ if he could get the chance to see Kyle again.

There's nothing wrong with that. _Just asking._ Because Kyle is here. And even if he left Forde's apartment; Kyle would always at any given moment still be **_some_** where.

What's he got to lose? Forde concludes that once he's awakened tomorrow, he _will_ ask to see if Kyle could hopefully want _something more._

Either he gets to see Kyle again, _or he doesn't_. But no matter what, Kyle will be around _some_ place. _N_ _ear or far._

**Whatever.** Forde can brood over this stuff tomorrow, depending on Kyle's reaction... Damn, Is he exhausted _or what!?_ He'll worry about everything tomorrow morning--

Because after all... Even if Forde hasn't _verbally_ used Kyle's name? Forde still **knows** it. So... actually... With _that_ in mind?

Between the two of them, It's _technically_ always really been a _two-_ way street.

**Author's Note:**

> I could go on and on about what RoTP means to me, down from the reason I wrote it, to what it coincidentally grew into. How it even without my intention bore a theme I would not for MONTHS understand that I myself would go through.
> 
> Especially how unbeknownst to my knowledge, I finished it up exactly one day before Rare Disease Day, which resulted in me ignoring the reason I wrote RoTP in the first place (reason being I was in too much pain to draw or even sleep, so I stayed up all night writing) and decided "I love this fic so much I wanna draw stupid shit from it ANYWAY even IN my agonizing pain!"
> 
> So, The first day I drew myself a MacKyleMore... was the following afternoon on Rare Disease Day. That was the date I deemed his birthday thereon, but I didn't even know that Rare Disease Day even existed, didn't know that it was this same day...
> 
> Or even that the pain I was for so long experiencing and would still experience and struggle to find out the answer to WAS that from a rare disorder.
> 
> That was a sign. I know it was. Because RoTP held time after time a place of comfort for me during my lonely struggle (even BEFORE I got to finally go to the doctor for the first time in July 2020) , and I still would not find out until Nov-Dec 2020 not only what was wrong with me, but also learn that MacKyle's birthday is on FUCKING RARE DISEASE DAY.
> 
> And in it's own right, the idea of a sign I had from the start threw into RoTP for no clear reason. basically I pulled the whole thing out of my ass. But there is SO much in it that became relevant to me. (Maybe it was 'bullshit coincidence'... or maybe people subconsiously project onto things even IF they cant comprehend them...)
> 
> Like fr There's a lot. And I can't write it all out here. There's so much more , still...
> 
> But like in short, RoTP is really important to me. It always will be. And no one could ever like... CARE or even begin to understand the depth held inside this stupid, poorly-written, little one-night-stand AU... But it's so significant to ME. So much unintentional stuff in RoTP AND Get Where You're Going came back around to my own life. 
> 
> (that being said i want to one day mass-edit Get Where You're Going, just like I did with RoTP. But not until after my pain is finally treated... bc its longish and its hard to edit things in pain. Esp when they are long... RoTP was frustrating to edit again itself and painful... so I planned to edit Get Where You're Going too: But I'd rather wait until It doesnt destroy me mentally and physically lol)
> 
> (It's really hilarious to me when I realize that when I'm old and ancient tho, the one thing that continually stood with me during what for so long felt like a hopeless fight is a Fire Emblem Character in a Macklemore Coat. That's so funny. Nothing can ever mean as much to me as RoTP has. Because nothing in my life could ever be as hard as this experience has been and continues to be, I'm almost certain. I know that. And even IF something left in my life would somehow be scarier or harder to get through? I at least know now that I have the strength inside me and that I can get through ANYthing.)
> 
> So uh, I guess I just think it's... weird... to think I have all my literal LIFE SAVING Route of The Problem stuff posted... But to anyone ELSE it would be just a silly fic. And as strange as this is to realize...? I guess it's also kind of cool. There's solace in solitude...
> 
> So, Happy Birthday to Route of The Problem. Happy Birthday to MacKyleMore TOMORROW, and Happy Rare Disease day! ...Awareness is cool. Because a group of different kinds of rare conditions group together to form a lot of people living with them... and collectively? Not so rare after all.
> 
> And the more aware, the easier it is to find help and information on.
> 
> I wish I would have found out the root of my own problem from the very beginning... Because it's been a grueling time for me. But I've made it this far, regardless as to how hard it's been. So I know I'll one day get where I'm going.


End file.
